Parting Thanks
by pleasesayitsnotso
Summary: One Shot: Set post- Civil War, whilst Natasha adjusts to the changes brought on by all that has come to past one of the main advocates for so many alterations reappears. With words of appreciation follows the reality of what is to come, and to part ways seems a bitter past-time they repeatedly share.


_"Every meeting led to a parting, and so it would, as long as life was mortal. In every meeting there was some of the sorrow of parting, but in everything parting there was some of the joy of meeting as well."_

 _―_ _Cassandra Clare_

* * *

Natasha had never possessed that maternal instinct so often associated with womankind, that had been a trait the Red Room had deemed detrimental, however now she could not deny the pleasant feeling that the small being asleep on her chest bestowed. Nathanial Pietro Barton was in his entirety completely adorable; his petite fists clutched possessively at her top whilst he snuggled himself further into her chest. Having an innocent so close, so wanting of her was incredibly foreign, filling her with equal measures of hope and unease. Beauty and the Beast was a mere fairy tale, a folly made to ease the suffering of those ugly persons who wished for redemption. It was not reality.

The Sokovia Accords had changed many things, had altered feelings of respect and trust, and had blurred the lines between friend or foe, enemy or team mate. Nothing was the same. Despite this she and Clint had managed to crawl from the wreckage of all that had come to pass, their friendship tested, dented and damaged but still there. Under the circumstances that had been they had inevitably resisted the soured discourse, the tension that had divided so many seemingly falling short when it came to them. Of course it would not be denied that no effect had been felt by their opposed views, many a debate on the subject would end in pensive silences that divided them for a moment. These instances of division however were short lived with the importance and significance of the other one that prevailed above all hostile reasoning. They were so much more than what the Avengers had made them, so much more than the conflict had created. That meant more.

Across the room Clint and Laura occupied the opposing sofa; the latter dozed pleasantly against her husband's shoulder as her body bore the brunt of nursing three incredibly vibrant children. The ice white glow of the TV settled upon their features, its illumination revealed that Clint too was on the precipice of entering the solace of slumber. The old grandfather clock that nestled itself comfortably within the room chimed accordingly to communicate that the hour was far too late for them to still be awake. A menagerie of groans followed suit as Clint and Laura roused themselves from the warm embrace of comfort and each other, before procuring Nathaniel and bidding Natasha a good night.

Natasha's instincts were something she could always rely on, honed by years of stringent training and strengthened further by her distrust of most, it was her one loyal constant. Her dependable companion indicated that someone was close by, a foreign presence that lingered hesitantly beyond the walls that currently enclosed her. She was not alone.

Life had bestowed upon Natasha an ability to sense danger, an oncoming threat would struggled to hide but right now the tentative presence outside was far from that. If their intentions were of a hostile nature their attack would have commenced long ago, patience was one thing but the concept to delay was a fool's errand. Steady in her walk and unwavering in her purpose, she prised open the door to find a figure she could not forget. The crisp silver glower of the moon cast before her a vision of a man she thought was long gone, a man who had found a new road to follow, a new life, a new purpose, one without her.

The laborious groan of the door commanded his attention, pulling his gaze from the ground he threw a glance to the door to find the very reason he was here. Lost, uneasy and unsure it seemed that despite his vehement need to see her, he painfully felt his alien presence, he shouldn't be here. Before he was able to change his mind, she walked towards him, a playful smirk pulled at her lips in a manner that always captivated him just so, as she quipped,

"If you're looking for trouble there's none here, unless you've brought it with you?" His stature before had seemed shrunken and resigned, although with every broad step toward him whatever tension that had once held him ebbed to nothing. Whilst his shoulders regained their standing, a small but precious grin embellished his features as he replied,

"None with me this time." Now stood before him she allowed her hands to rest upon her hips, a somewhat casual bearing that also posed a stance of defiance and defence, as she asked offhandedly,

"So what brings you here?" His gaze dropped to his feet, specifically eyeing the way his toes shuffled, trudged and squirmed against the floor of the veranda. A sigh of resignation eased gently through his lips, a nervous hand passed through his hair before he answered with care,

"I wanted to say thanks Nat. Thanks for helping me and Buck... you didn't have to do that." Words of thanks were something Natasha could never quite get used to hearing, during her youth gratitude and recognition was not something you were given easily... or at all. Her mind always rationalised why a word of appreciation was not required, this instance did not disappoint as a shrug briefly hunched her shoulders and she replied,

"This whole thing is bigger than Bucky, you... all of us. He may have done some... questionable things, but he wasn't himself. I can relate to that." The extent to which she could sympathise with Bucky was beyond what could be considered normal; her life had once followed a very similar pattern to his, a life of instruction, regime and command. Nothing was ever yours, not even you. Steve's features visibly softened, the sparkle within his eye receding to a glisten of sympathy, whilst his lips momentarily pursed in discomfort, before he uttered with painful sincerity,

"I'm sorry Nat." The nature of his apology was of course ridiculous, to apologise for something completely out of his control or influence was an absurdity that only he could make sound so right. Not that it mattered now; the past had come and gone with life continuing to roll upon it's ever spinning wheels. Pushing aside his earnest statement, she allowed a grateful smile to befall her as she gladly announced,

"Plus you're not alone now." A charming grin pulled upon his lips before he bowed his head, an action intending to hide him from the reaction to the words he spoke next,

"I don't think I ever was. You've always been there." That she had been was something that was rather lost on Natasha, her presence in his life was something she had downplayed as some kind of necessity within the job she held. Her heart knew better, but her mind ignored as she replied,

"Yeah well you need someone else." His hands buried their way back into his pockets, whilst the smirk that now etched his features so lifted his gaze into the night's sky. A warm hue of amusement lay upon his voice as he answered,

"If you say so." The immediate quirk of her brow afforded Steve with yet another expression of hers that he so missed, the manner in which her wicked green eyes sparked that bit brighter with tease made the reality of their separation all the more unpleasant. With the wit he had become so fond of, she quipped back through a smirk,

"Obeying orders now? There's a change." His hands released from their previous occupation in his jacket, his shoulders relaxed further allowing them to shake within the midst of a chuckle,

"You're words are orders are they?" Arms crossed upon her chest it was now blaringly obvious that a challenge of sorts was being thrown to him, as she answered in jest,

"When haven't they been?" The mischief painted so liberally upon her sharp and enchanting features allowed him to get lost in the moment, their soft melodic laughs melding together in the still of the night. Two people who failed to acknowledge that the regard they held for each other was much more than either dared to accept, let alone consider. As the time he had to share with her sped towards its end, he took the instant left bare to express a taxing truth,

"I missed this you know." With the soft lull of lapsing restraint, she too joined in his words of candour,

"Yeah... me too." A readying sigh emitted from Steve, as he fought earnestly against the will that told him he didn't have to leave. He had his purpose and she had hers, that they no longer intertwined was something he still had to adjust to. Two parallels on similar tracks that did not cross, this was what had become and what would have to be, and with that in mind he causally hummed,

"Right I better go... duty calls." The deadpan delivery of her follow up was one that never failed to amuse,

" Interesting that it always calls you." His walk now started to lead him to the steps exiting the veranda, an effort that beat back the want to remain and fought against his better judgement, as he replied flippantly,

"Comes with the job." Descending the steps she followed, an action that she somehow felt no control over, as if his very being had ensnared her within his vicinity tethering her to him. She could have said she had no choice, but that lie didn't sit well although it did fit better than the truth. Her following did stop however once she reached the last step, allowing him to continue on towards the bike that awaited his leave. He was leaving. That was a fact she had no bearing on, and within the line of work they both occupied it was hard to say if an occasion would arise again where they would meet in such tranquil circumstances. With that she called after him, her voice firm and unwavering, confident in its purpose,

" Steve..." To hear his name from her lips was a gift he never knew he needed, for so long he'd been without it that to hear it once more was something he valued as if it were a long lost memento. Their shared tie to one another pulled taut coercing him to turn back towards her, where her figure awaited his return. He hoped that maybe she'd always wait. But hopes are only hopes and to hold one such as that was in its entirety selfish, life would not afford him that.

The height gain she had procured from remaining on the last step entitled her to an advantageous view of his expression, one of which held eager slithers of expectation, melded with dulled concern and apprehension. It often threw her how a man within his field of work still possessed such an appalling ability to withhold his emotions, to hide the effects of what he had endured was a failing she had come to care for. It was refreshing and somewhat endearing, not that she would tell him that for she so loved to tease and chide him for it, although currently she didn't' feel the need for either. Instead her fingers reached for the collar of his jacket, her eagle eye observing that it had become unsettled from its proper place, allowing her an ideal diversion for her attentions whilst she uttered,

"Be careful soldier." Her fingertips slipped along the lapel, pressing it back to where it should be before her palms came to rest upon his chest. The prominent concern that came to him was the thought that beneath her hands she would feel the steadfast thrum of his beating heart. A rhythm that had increased considerably from her close contact, although still allowed him the ability to hush back,

"Always am." Their gaze finally met once more, a slanted smile upon her lips betrayed the disbelief she felt at the answer he had given, mainly because it was a bluff she had so frequently used herself. As she patted his chest in a manner that held a casual affection, she replied genially,

"If only I could believe that." His hands slipped smoothly around her waist holding her close to him, whilst her arms wrapped around his neck with an ease she never would have predicted. Along her back she could feel his fingers splay and press with a tenderness that expressed a want to never release. Whilst her own settled upon her forearms, locking him within their embrace with a means to prolong the company she had unknowingly missed. His earthy and vintage cologne found her, a scent of which she had so forgotten but now gladly recalled. Sensing that their hold on one another must come to an end, their arms relaxed and relinquished them slowly as he whispered into her hair,

"Goodbye." Hesitant in their parting the space between them steadily opened up and there with it a precious moment fell into place, one that both seared onto their minds knowing that this could very well be their last meeting for a long while. Uneasy and uneven smiles befell them both, before they retreated back to where they were currently needed.

She had once treated Steve with a kind of pity that was saved for the naivety of the few pure and innocent beings of the world, a pity accompanied by a few stark lectured words on the brutal reality of the world. She was wrong. Every moment spent with him she found herself stumbling upon another aspect or trait of his that she decidedly did not know or would never have predicted. He made her certainties waver and her beliefs shift and in doing so a new class of respect and affection was born. Becoming acquainted with him had become a danger and a threat in way she would never have conceived; he altered how she perceived so many things, not just herself or him. Everything. **The black and white lenses of which she once saw the world through no longer held their crisp clarity, and the cynicism that had been such welcome company now seemed to stifle and restrict. He'd opened her eyes to a world of different possibilities, a world in which hope and care were valued and traded in kind with sacrifice and belief. Fairy tales were not reality, but perhaps they were possibilities dressed in kind scripture and 'happily ever afters'. Maybe it was time to believe.**


End file.
